Chapter 9: Rumors of Favor, Truths Left Unspoken

Knowing full well that speaking honestly would only trigger a storm of worry from his brothers, Fria simply offered a vague smile.

“What nonsense is this, you insolent brat!”

Alarmed by Duncan’s irreverent words and worried that his youngest brother might suffer consequences, Rohan quickly scolded his nephew.

Though Fria had once followed a dubious alchemist more than his own family, causing them quiet disappointment, he was still their proud, yet pitiful younger brother.

He had volunteered to become the Emperor’s consort in place of his young niece and, once in the harem, had risen above the noble daughters of other duchies to receive imperial favor first, even securing tax reductions for their homeland.

They said having a daughter made one a sinner, but this was exactly how it felt to have a consort in the palace. If Fria had been born a woman, he might at least have borne an heir and secured his place.

But as a man, once the Emperor’s interest waned, he would be trapped in the harem for life, growing old in solitude unless death released him.

Rohan had come out of concern, yet seeing Fria in person only deepened his worries. As if unaware, or perhaps choosing to ignore it, Fria asked for some privacy and dismissed his nephew and the maid.

“Please tell eldest brother this. I have no use for these, and everything I need is already provided in the palace. Think of it as a return gift for my sisters-in-law’s kindness.”

Fria pulled out a bundle from his robes and handed it to Rohan. He had secretly gathered part of the imperial gifts to send back home, hiding them from Judith.

“You mustn’t do this, Lord Fria.”

“I’m truly doing well. You don’t need to worry.”

Fria clasped Rohan’s hand firmly when he tried to refuse. Once, his brothers hadn’t even noticed him growing up in a corner of the castle, but after discovering him, they had tried so hard to make up for it that Fria himself felt guilty.

Even Duncan, who had always been rude, had come all this way despite the inconvenience.

Even if the Emperor’s unknown plans succeeded and he never had to return here again… even if he were to die suddenly in this distant land… Fria simply wished to be remembered back home as someone who had lived happily.

****

“What could they be talking about for so long?”

In another room, Duncan stretched, bored out of his mind. Just then, maids appeared, loudly setting down trays piled high with pies, cakes, and pastries in front of him, as if to protest: We’re not starving Lord Fria, you know! We have plenty!

“Then please… eat as much… as you like.”

Judith turned to leave with a frosty air, but Duncan hesitated and called out to her.

“Hey… I’ve got something to ask.”

‘Go ahead, hmph.’

“That bastard- no, I mean, the Emperor, and Fria…”

‘Who are you calling a bastard, you little- if you weren’t Lord Fria’s nephew, you’d be executed for treason.’

“What about His Majesty and Lord Fria?”

Duncan stumbled over his words, oddly embarrassed.

“I-I mean… do they… you know… do it? Really?”

“Do what?”

“That thing. The first night… the thing… making babies. Well, Fria can’t, but still.”

Frustrated, Duncan raised his middle finger to demonstrate.

“…What?”

“Do they really? Have they?”

Realizing what he meant, Judith’s face twisted instantly.

“What do you take the title of imperial consort for? It’s an honor granted only to those touched by His Majesty.”

“I just heard he hates men, that’s all. Was that wrong?”

Startled by her sharp tone, Duncan fumbled defensively.

“His Majesty dotes on Lord Fria so much. He comes every single day, we’re more worried Fria’s body won’t hold up. How could you say such nonsense?”

Though calling it “doting” was a stretch, the Emperor simply came, did what he came to do, and left, it was true he visited every night.

“Every day?”

“I told you! Sometimes twice a day!”

It had happened before. And it could happen again.

“Twice?”

“Beast…” Duncan muttered, his face flushing as his imagination ran wild. No wonder Fria looked so thin, how could his body possibly endure that? Total fraud. He didn’t look like someone with that kind of appetite at all.

When Fria first said he’d go to the harem, Duncan had scoffed. What could he possibly achieve there? The Emperor hated both Alphenia and men, Fria would just waste away reading books in some forgotten corner.

Even when news came that Fria had become a favored consort, Duncan had doubted it. Surely it was a mistake, or the Emperor had been drunk.

But rumors spread: the Emperor was deeply infatuated with a fox-like male concubine.

‘A fox? Fria?’

Duncan had to see it himself. More than anything, he couldn’t accept that his uncle was offering his body to another man.

That stiff, stubborn uncle, who smiled sweetly only at those he liked and turned his head away from those he didn’t. Even Duncan himself had once been disliked for his blunt words, not realizing it had only been Fria’s way of teasing him.

As he neared the capital, Duncan had briefly wondered if the Emperor might actually be kind, warming Fria’s guarded heart. But after meeting him, that illusion shattered instantly.

And now, now that he had seen the Emperor’s face, those once vague thoughts became vividly real.

That young bastard from yesterday… was taking his uncle like that? Every day? Twice a day?

Among the tribute they had brought were tonics prepared by his aunts, rumored among noblewomen to boost a man’s vitality.

‘Oh no.’

What if the Emperor drank that and started coming three times a day?

‘He might die!’

****

“Aren’t you curious what’s inside?”

Byron pointed at the ornate box. It had been a gift from Alphenia’s treasury official but had been forgotten in a corner of the study until Byron placed it on the desk. The wrapping bore the duchy’s golden plover emblem.

Unlike the obsequious middle-aged official, Owen remembered the young man who had bowed formally yet glared with open dissatisfaction. Likely kin of the consort.

Insolent people. Even if they were the Empress’s family, had she borne an heir, Owen had no intention of favoring any one duchy.

“Take it. I don’t need it.”

“You don’t even know what’s inside. What if the owner of the Swallow Palace feels hurt?”

“It passed inspection. It won’t kill you.”

Owen already knew it contained high-end chocolate but showed no interest.

“At least try one.”

“I hate sweets.”

“Then I’ll eat them all?”

Byron pretended to unwrap one, but seeing no reaction, he set it down, bored. In the imperial palace, nothing was unattainable. No matter how fine the gift, it meant little.

It wasn’t about the object, it was about sincerity.

But the gifts Fria’s sisters-in-law had prepared with care were meaningless in Owen’s eyes. Despite rumors, the young Emperor’s heart held no one.

“Just asking, do you at least know his name?”

Byron asked casually.

“The man from Alphenia?”

“What a cold way to say it. Yes, the owner of the Swallow Palace.”

He didn’t expect Owen to remember all nine consorts’ names, but knowing and forgetting was different from never knowing at all.

“I know it.”

The answer came unexpectedly. At the same moment, Owen’s brow furrowed, something Byron noticed with quiet interest.

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